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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700079">Nothing at All</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodalicious_Froggy/pseuds/Sodalicious_Froggy'>Sodalicious_Froggy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Death and Taxes (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, fate is (at best) a questionable parent, grim is a child au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:40:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodalicious_Froggy/pseuds/Sodalicious_Froggy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate had seen a thing or two in his unending lifetime. Baby death spawns had never been one of them. Keyword here was HAD.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fate (Death and Taxes) &amp; Grim (Death and Taxes)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nothing at All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>first death and taxes fic?? here we go babey</p>
<p>inspired from ramblings in the official dnt discord server 👉🏼👉🏼</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fate stared blankly at the cauldron before him, opening his mouth as if wanting to say something only for it to close again immediately after. </p>
<p>After all, out of the dozens and dozens of Grim Brews he had made, none of them, and he means NONE of them had EVER produced... a CHILD. </p>
<p>Or... or what he could only ASSUME was a child. It didn't LOOK like a fully fledged death spawn and it certainly wasn't big enough to fit into a suit and tie. </p>
<p>The. Child(???) in question was currently hanging over the edge of the cauldron, bottom half submerged in glowing, cinnamon-scented liquid as it fumbled with half of a lemon rind. Fate hesitated before inching closer to it, seeming to have caught its attention.</p>
<p>"Hbffffffbbbbbt," It gurgled, dropping the lemon as it made a sort of... Grabby Hand motion at the Keeper of World Order himself.</p>
<p>"I... Uh," Fate stuttered, looking to Lady Pawdington from her perch on top of one of the bookshelves. She frankly seemed just as confused as they were, letting out a series of meows that seemed to be her saying something along the lines of 'What are you looking at me for? This isn't my problem, now is it?'</p>
<p>Fate just shot an accusatory glance at her, though what he was accusing her of wasn't exactly clear to either of them. </p>
<p>He looked back down to the miniature spawn before him, carefully picking it up as if it were a pet he'd just given a bath to. </p>
<p>"Why... Hello there..... Spawn... uh," He started, racking his brain for what number this one was again. </p>
<p>Truth be told, he didn't even know if number really mattered anyways. Was this even a death spawn?? Did he follow the right spell???? He'd made near over a hundred different spawns in his millennia of life, surely this couldn't have been a mistake on his part?</p>
<p>But sure enough, he looked to the book beside him and the recipe titled 'DEATH SPAWN' in large calligraphic lettering stared back, an uncharacteristic sense of anxiety beginning to well inside of them. </p>
<p>This was a child. Like, no getting around it, that was an ACTUAL, honest to Gods CHILD. </p>
<p>...</p>
<p>What were they supposed to do with a child????????</p>
<p>None of the other death spawns in his department had EVER materialized as an infant before. And he would know, he'd created every single one of them. </p>
<p>And yet here... THIS was; two large, shiny, almost puppy-like yellow pupils staring at him as if he was the only thing in the entire world. </p>
<p>Considering their circumstances, he probably was. After all, they were created from an amalgamation brew of a human skull, lemons, Fate's Secret Death Spawn Spice Blend™, and about four or five different human eyes a solid, hm, 2 minutes ago?</p>
<p>Needless to say, the situations weren't. Ideal. </p>
<p>The child in question merely gurgled back at him, splattering a bit of grim brew residue onto Fate's glasses and suit. </p>
<p>Fate very narrowly resisted the urge to yell. Very, VERY, narrowly. He waved his hand over the affected areas, the spatters of red dissipating from the fabric of their suit jacket. </p>
<p>Ok so first order of business: get Child Spawn a Bath. </p>
<p>Second order of business: ...find out what to Do with Child Spawn. </p>
<p>As he moved to the sink and once again racked his brain for any solution he could to the predicament he found himself in, Lady Pawdington's eyes followed the two as they moved across the room, letting out a soft purr as Fate began to fill up the sink.</p>
<p>He looked up at her, shedding off his jacket and folding it up before rolling up his shirt sleeves.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose you have any answers, do you Lady?"</p>
<p>"Mroww."</p>
<p>"Thought so." </p>
<p>"Mrowww?"</p>
<p>"...How do you suppose I... 'get rid of it' then?"</p>
<p>"Mrr-rrow."</p>
<p>"Kill it??"</p>
<p>"Mrow."</p>
<p>"Like... Have its profile sent to The Offices?" </p>
<p>She purred.</p>
<p>They stared back at the burbling little skeleton they'd placed in the sink, now splashing at the water that came up to their ribcage.</p>
<p>Offing the poor thing now was probably the most reasonable and merciful thing to do. After all, Fate was an increasingly busy man and children weren't something he was exactly well versed in. </p>
<p>However, as he continued to look on at them, a twinge of...hesitance(?) came over him at the thought of it. </p>
<p>Pain, more like it, actually. </p>
<p>A child spawn had never been an issue before, and he didn't WANT it to be an issue NOW. Not to mention having a child around The Offices might hinder his future plans for.. The Great Dying. And he certainly couldn't have that. But at the same time...</p>
<p>The shiny yellow eyes stared back at him expectantly, once again making that grabby hand motion they'd made at him previously. He was the only other being they knew and something inside them told them that this tall, oddly irate man with glasses was the one thing they could surely trust. </p>
<p>Fate hesitated again.</p>
<p>"...Oh to hell with it all."</p>
<p>If Fate could keep the world balanced for thousands- no, HUNDREDS of thousands of years, then SURELY they could manage a single defected spawn. After all, he wasn't the Keeper of World Order for nothing, right? Right???</p>
<p>...At least that's what he'd like to tell himself. </p>
<p>Besides, all they had to do was keep the child alive until it (hopefully) grew up into a functioning reaper, preferably without the knowledge of the rest of Highest Management, and keep formulating his plans for The End of Days. </p>
<p>Nothing he couldn't handle, nothing at all. At the very least it'd keep him from thinking about his own immortality and anything that could keep him from that was a pleasure at its finest. </p>
<p>They gently reached for the child once more, turning the tap back on so they could wash away the remnants of glowing red goop from their head. </p>
<p>After they'd been cleaned, Fate tugged out the stopper from the drain, the baby spawn looking in wonder as the water level slowly depleted.</p>
<p>"Yes, fascinating, isn't it?" He mused, reaching into a cabinet for a spare towel and carefully plopping it on top of their head. </p>
<p>The child giggled, something that could almost be described as a... smile making its way to Fate's face as he picked it back up and wrapped up the bundle of bones in his sink.</p>
<p>"Mrrrow?"</p>
<p>"No, I don't think so. They could prove useful, in a way."</p>
<p>"Mrr-rrow."</p>
<p>"...I think I can manage, Lady Pawdington."</p>
<p>"Mrow."</p>
<p>Fate merely rolled his eyes at her before picking up the spawn once more, this time more like an actual child instead of a wet animal.</p>
<p>"I suppose I'll have to name you now, hm?" They mumbled softly as they carried them to his room, hoping to find something or other for them to wear. Naming spawns usually wasn't much of an issue; he normally just called them by their spawn number with little to no grievances, only having the occasional protest from spawns who eventually came to live with it. But some sort of name seemed in order for Spawn #105 (ah, there was the number, how could he forget one so simple?), something that wouldn't raise a lot of suspicion. </p>
<p>"...Grim. How does that sound, for a name?" He asked them, placing them at the edge of his bed. </p>
<p>The child made a noise of what Fate was ready to assume was approval, giving them a small pat on the head.</p>
<p>"Grim it is, then," He hummed, turning to open his closet that could more accurately be described as an endless sea of slacks, collared shirts, and bow ties. They frowned softly as they moved to sift through what they considered the more 'casual' section of their closet. </p>
<p>After a solid 10 minutes or so (whatever constituted as 10 minutes in The Offices), he pulled out an old grey tshirt and a pair of shorts he never used, mumbling under his breath and waving his hand over both items. </p>
<p>They both instantly shrunk to something more infant sized and he turned back to Grim, comparing the clothing to them by holding it against their tiny body. </p>
<p>"Hm. The shirt is a little big but it'll do," He shrugged, kneeling down before pulling it over Grim's head, much to their displeasure. </p>
<p>"Pbbbbbnbbffff."</p>
<p>"I know, I know, it's a terrible color on you," He joked softly, an oddly... paternal feeing bubbling inside him. One he hadn't felt in a very, very long time...</p>
<p>He shook his head to refocus before looking back at Grim, standing them up so he could pull the shirt down all the way. </p>
<p>Then came the shorts, Grim once again expressing displeasure but making no actual effort to stop him. </p>
<p>"There you are. Sorry for the lack of better fitting clothes, I wasn't expecting such a... small reaper-to-be," They said, Grim making a sound that could only be described as a baby-sized raspberry. Fate raised an eyebrow. </p>
<p>"Learning from Lady Pawdington already, aren't you Grim?" He mused, Grim opening their mouth to let out another baby-sized noise of dissent only for a yawn to escape them instead. </p>
<p>They made grabby hands for Fate again, letting another unintelligible garble. </p>
<p>"Tired, are you? You're such a small thing, I suppose you can only handle so much," Fate chuckled, picking them back up. They merely snuggled into his shirt in response, falling asleep almost instantly. </p>
<p>Fate took the moment of silence to get their thoughts together. </p>
<p>He had created a new death spawn. The death spawn was a child, no bigger than a human 6 month old. He named the child Grim. Grim seemed to take a liking to him. He had never raised a child before. He also still wanted to end the world. </p>
<p>Awesome. Cool. Wonderful. </p>
<p>Fate let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose with his one free hand.</p>
<p>Life was an enigma of misadventures. They supposed this was just another one. One that just happened to be small and kind of, maybe, perhaps a little adorable. </p>
<p>...Nothing he couldn't handle. Nothing at all.</p>
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